


My train of thought derailed...

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 1st person pov, Gen, Hangover fic, Train of Thought, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Robinson v A Hangover...</p>
            </blockquote>





	My train of thought derailed...

Oh good. It’s a nice day. That sunlight feels nice. 

But oh, my head hurts. Why does my head hurt? 

Why is there a pattern on my pillowcase? My pillowcases are plain Manchester. This is much softer. And the pillow’s much thicker than mine. It’s nice. Wait! Where am I?

Shit.

Shit!

Is this… this is Phryne’s, Miss Fisher’s room. Oh god, that’s her. Naked. Nude. It’s art, so it’s ‘nude’.

We didn’t. Did we? No. I would remember that. Wouldn’t I? Oh god, what if we did, and I can’t remember? I really want to remember. Think, Robinson! 

Where is she?

What am I wearing? I don’t remember getting changed. These pyjamas are not mine.

Does she just have a supply of pyjamas? Why can’t I remember getting changed into these? Why am I even here? Why did I sit up? The room’s spinning now. Lie down again.

That’s a knock on the door. 

And that’s Mr Butler.

_Good Morning Inspector, I’ve pressed your suit._

Don’t move. Don’t let him know that you have no idea what’s happened. He seems to be acting very nonchalantly. Why is he so unconcerned? 

Remember your manners. 

_Thank you Mr Butler._

Why is my voice so hoarse? 

_No trouble at all, Sir._

God that door’s loud when it closes. Where’s Phryne, Miss Fisher? Did she sleep with me? Why is this other pillow at such a weird angle? 

Sit up slowly. Why are the curtains even open? That light is too much. 

Hang on… I remember…being in Phryne’s, Miss Fisher’s parlour. And I was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And there were some lovely cocktails. And then some whisky. Oh god, how much did I drink? Did I eat? No. I was supposed to have dinner with Phryne, Miss Fisher. 

Then what? She came into the room… Oh. Oh. Oh…god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. French Artists? Shit, that’s the arsehole who she was actually scared of. Shit, that was probably out of line. Fugitive anarchists…Russian… Clairvoyants? Who the fuck was that? Tango Dancers… shit, she must think I’ve been keeping a record. Men who wear cravats…? What?... How strong were the bloody cocktails? And… was there some sort of fruit in them? Was it something green and slightly salty tasting? 

Then what? She was going to say something. 

And then… 

And now it’s morning. 

Right, come on Robinson, clothes. 

*****************  
Shit who put that vase there? Rescue it Robinson, keep your cool… 

God my hair’s a mess. 

I can’t see her. I can’t hear her. Or smell her. Good. 

All right, all right, I can see my hat and overcoat. I just need to make it through the door before she… appears… from wherever she is. 

Come on, come on, you’re close now. Just three more steps… 

_Hungry? I can recommend the Omelette._

So close. 

Of course, that’s where she was. With this guy. Whoever he is… 

_Morning Jack!_

Shit. Fuck. 

_How’s the head?_

I was so close… 

_Miss Fisher._

Always remember your manners. Thank you mother… 

_I offered him breakfast…_

Well I don’t need to be here for this… 

_Father, I asked you to wait upstairs._

Wait, hang on… 

Oh. 

Oh.

Oh…

_Father!_

Speaking should not hurt this much… 

This cannot get any worse… 

_Henry George Fisher, Baron of Richmond. We haven’t been formally introduced. Though I did help to carry you up the stairs._

It got worse… 

_This is Detective Inspector Jack Robinson._

That was very pronounced, wasn’t it? The way she said ‘Detective Inspector’. God I’ve totally blown this, I thought I was becoming just ‘Jack’. 

_Inspector?_

_Yes father, an officer of the law._

Oh brilliant, another Fisher who obviously doesn’t like policemen. Oh! He hit me with the door! I remember! Oh god… 

_My father is the main financier of the Cavalcade of Mysteries. You might recall Mr MacKenzie… mentioning him?_

Baron of Rich… Of course. Is Phryne, Miss Fisher all right? She seems very… perturbed. Shit how much of an arse of myself did I make? 

_Yes, I, I do recall…_

So, this was, he was, her father is the person who was suddenly staying? Oh. Oh god. Well, that explains why she cancelled on me. But why didn't she just tell me it was her father? 

I need to leave. Right Robinson; grab the hat, and the coat. Now! 

_I think I’ll try another omelette…_

You do that mate... 

Make a break for the door…

_Jack! I was going to explain last night. But, you were in no fit state._

Please don’t block the door. 

Am I sweating? Why is she so close? 

_You assaulted me!_

What am I saying? I am just making this worse... 

Why is she so close? God, she looks amazing this close… God, this cannot get any worse. I need to leave. 

_My father assaulted you! Well, his nerve tonic assaulted you first, but, none of it was planned._

She sounds apologetic. That always confuses me. Why is she still standing in front of the door? Is she trying to humiliate me? 

_Who put me in pyjamas?_

Why am I still talking? I cannot stand for the answer to be her. I absolutely cannot. 

_Mr Butler of course._

Oh, thank, god. Good man Mr Butler. Always liked him. 

_After I undressed you._

It got worse. Again. Why have her eyes swept downwards? Why? Oh, god! Why is she looking at me like that? God I want to kiss her. 

Don’t look down. Do not look down! Oh shit, I looked down. I want to die. And sleep. More sleep. I need a shower. And a shave. And my pomade. And cleaner clothes. 

Who is possibly at the door? 

Oh, you are kidding me… 


End file.
